


The John Parable

by DarkFoxKirin



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Stanley Parable
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, Funny, Humor, Insanity, M/M, Sad, Time Loop, WTF, angry narrator, annoying narrator, confused narrator, game fanfic, happy narrator, mannequin!, sad narrator, the stanley parable game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkFoxKirin/pseuds/DarkFoxKirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story of a man named John. Who spends his days pushing buttons as commanded by his boss, who issues orders to his workers via a system of monitors. However, one day John notices that he hasn't been given any orders in hours. What follows are events that change his life forever.</p><p>~A Johnlock fanfic based off of The Stanley Parable game.~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved this game and I just had to make a fic about it. And I just thought that Johnlock would best fit. Don't you think?

_This is a story of a man named John._

_John worked for a company in a big building where he was employee number 427._

_Employee number 427's job was simple. He sat at his desk in his room 427 and pushed buttons on a keyboard. Orders come to his through a monitor at his desk, telling him what buttons to push, how long to push them, and in what order. This is what employee number 427 did every day, of every month, of every year. And although others might have found this boring, John loved every second of it. As though he was made exactly for this job. And John... was happy._

_And then one day, something very peculiar happened. Something that would forever change John. Something that he would never quite forget. He had been at his desk for nearly an hour when he realized that not one single order had arrived on the monitor for him to follow. No one had showed up to give him instructions, to call up a meeting, or to even say hi._

_Never in all his years of him working for the company had this happened._

_This complete isolation._

_Something was very clearly wrong._

_Shocked frozen solid, John may have found himself unable to move for the longest time. But as he came to his wits and he gained his senses, he got up from his desk, and stepped out of his office._

John was confused. All these years of working for this company, and then one day everyone is gone and there is this baritone British voice in his head, narrating all of his actions. He stepped out of the office like the voice had just said. If just to placate the man for now. 

_All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? John decided to go to the Meeting Room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo._

When he walked out of his office, he was speechless. Where was Greg? Or Molly? Even Mrs.Hudson was gone! 

He walked up to their desks and checked around them just to be sure.

_No matter how hard John looked, he couldn't find a trace of his coworkers._

John rolls his eyes at the voice and continued on his way. 

He saw that most of the computers were still on, so he went around turning all of them off. Wouldn't want to lose any progress. As he passed through the rooms, turning off computers and such, he checked the doors. They were all locked. Oh well. Might as well keep-

_John went around touching every little thing in the office. But it didn't make a single difference. Nor did it advance the story in any way._

John scowled and kept on trying to open all of the doors. If he wanted to try and open them, then he damn well sure was going to! When he finally came to a room that had open doors, he smiled and walked up to them. 

_When John came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left._

John stopped and looked up. "You know, just who exactly are you anyway? You just show up out of nowhere and start narrating my life for me! Well? Explain yourself!"

_...My name is Sherlock Holmes and I'm the Consulting Narrator. The only one in the world. I should know, I created it. No, no, no, don't look at me like that. You obviously need me._

Sherlock? What a strange name. But even though he really was brilliant at narrating, he still did it without asking. If you can do that... "Well wait a minute. I didn't ask you to start narrating my life for me! So why are you doing it?"

John heard a put upon sigh. _Well if you let me carry on with my story, then maybe you would find out, hm? Now shut up. We've got work to do._

"Really? You want to go? Just like that?" John threw up his hands. He had only knew this man for just 15 minute and already he felt a headache coming on. John stopped. And then smiled. "Fine. But I'll do what I want when I want." He then took a large step through the right door.

He could practically hear Sherlock's eyes rolling. _This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and John knew that perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to stop by the employee lounge first. Just to admire it._

John frowned. Clever. He switched it up as though he had only wanted to take the scenic route instead of disobeying completely. 

_Ah, yes. Truly a room worth admiring. It had really been worth the detour after all._ John rolled his eyes and continued to look around the lounge. _Maybe he would just stay here for a moment just to emasculate the magnificence of the room. John just stood here, drinking it all in._ John shrugged and circled the room for a moment. Looking at the vending machine and the simplicity of the deep blue chairs. _Yes, really-_

And John stepped out of the room. Effectively cutting off what the Consulting Narrator had to say. 

_But in a hurry and ready to get back to business, John walked out of the lounge and went through the door on his left._

John walked down the corridor and saw the door Sherlock was talking about. But looking forward, John saw something more interesting. Another open door. Another choice. Another chance to bug the hell out of Sherlock. 

He continued forward.

 _John was so bad at following orders, no less directions, it's surprising that he wasn't fired years ago._ There was slight irritation in the man's words.

"Hey! Just because I don't do what you tell me to, doesn't mean that I'm bad at my job." John said hotly.

_Oh I'm sorry, whose story is this?_

"Mine!"

_..._

John then walked into the room and stepped onto the turbo lift.

_Look, John, maybe we've gotten off of the wrong foot here. I'm not here to harm you, really I'm not._

John snorted as the platform began to move. "Could have fooled me."

Sherlock ignores him. _I realize that entrusting your life into someone else's hands is difficult, but the fact is that the story (as dull as it is...) has been about nothing but you all this time. There's someone you've been neglec-_

John saw that there was another door open not too far below him.

He jumped.

 _Really!? I was in the middle of something! Do you have zero consideration of others? Are you that convinced that I want something bad to happen to you?_ John shrugged. _Do you know what? I don't know how to convince you of this, but I really do want to help you! To show you something beautiful. You know what? Let me prove it. Let me prove that I'm on your side. Give me a chance._

John started to walk forward, down the steps and into a room with two more doors. one red and one blue. Choices again.

_Now listen carefully, this is important. John walked through the red door._

Both of the doors opened to reveal some more corridors. He could go through the red door... 

Nah. He hadn't even known this man before today. John turns and goes through the _blue_ door.

And gets teleported right back in front of the two doors.

 _Aha, perhaps you've misunderstood. John walked through the_ red _door._

John scowled. "Like hell." And he walked through the blue door again.

 _I don't think that we're communicating properly. John walked through the_ **red** door.

John felt like screaming. "Yeah, and I said NO!" But there was only the red door in front of him with a large red blinking arrow and other smaller arrows written in marker pointing towards the red door. But behind John was the blue door. 

And he walks through the blue door yet again.

 _Oh fine, go ahead John. You want to know so badly whats out there? You want to find out what lies at the end of this road you chose? Well don't let me stop you._ Sherlock's voice was clipped and bitter.

Finally. John walked down the corridor and onto a balcony of sorts. The room was huge! The walls were orange and had some writing on them. There were two more smaller balconies on either side of the room and each had a light above it like his. The whole room was lined up with small lights along the walls.

_See John? There's nothing even here. I hadn't even finished loading up this part of the map because you were never supposed to be here in the first place! Broken rooms, exposed developer textures. Is this what you wanted? Was it worth the effort of ruining the perfectly good story that I'd made **specifically for you**!? Do you think that I hadn't put a lot of time in that? Because **I did.** And maybe it was all for nothing, because thins is what you wanted to see. Help me here John, help me elucidate these strange and un-noble desires of yours. What would have made this game better? That did you want to see? Purchase vehicles? Scale trees? Because you've given me absolutely nothing so far. Fine. Let me show you this new layout and then give me some feedback. Ungrateful curd..._

John shuffled his feet, slightly ashamed. He hadn't known that this story meant that much to Sherlock. Maybe he really did care...

He was then teleported to the same room that had the first set of two doors there. Only now, there was a third door to the right of the door on the right. The door was wooden and the walls on the inside were all orange like the ones from the room that he had just come from.

_There. Brand new. A third option. This already feels leaps ahead of where we were before. Go ahead John, take it for a spin._

Just because he was feeling a bit guilty, John walked through the third door. This room was very similar to the other one also, if not the same.

 _Okay, I'm going to stop you there. Now, let's do an experiment. How did you like this new version?_ There was a large sign that had 1-5 with a red button on the bottom of each of the numbers. _Would you have said the game had benefited from having changes made to it? Feel free to be honest. I'm looking for some real feedback here._

John shrugged and pressed the 5 button.

 _Aha! You see? I knew that I was missing something. Where do these flashes of inspiration come from. How did I know that the game needed a third door? It's the power of deduction. People say that it's instinct mostly. A calling in your gut. But it's really just deduction. And how did I do it? Well, just looking at your facial expression and mannerisms, this was the best course of action. Here, placed on your previous play through,_ 'Previous Play through?' John mouthed, looking around. _I've compiled a new version. And to be perfectly candid, I think I've knocked it out of the park with this one. Let's take a look._

John is really starting to hate teleportation. 

There is a large blue board that reads, 'The John Parable Worldwide Leaderboard.' John tilts his head and moves closer. There, on the board, there are multiple different 'players'. And at the very top, was John. 

_See John? You're my favorite._ John just backs up and in his haste, goes through the left door. But it's all right, he comes to the same room again. _Now, would you say that that competitive leaderboard help you feel motivated to keep walking through doors? Again, honest answers please._

John shivered and pressed the 1 button. This was too freaky.

 _What?_

"I don't even know what the hell is going on! If I praise you, you wont learn your lesson."

 _Lesson? What lesson? This is my story. And as for the situation, If you had done what the story said, then you would probably know by now!_ John rolls his eyes. _I'd nearly forgot, I've got a new prototype of a game that I have been working on. And now would be a lovely time to test it. You wouldn't mind taking a look at it would you? Perfect, let me boot it up._

And then the strangest thing happened. A fucking _loading screen_ popped up. John couldn't see anything else but the screen. 

When the loading screen finally disappeared, he was in a room with a cardboard cutout of a baby in a diaper on the right side of the room, and a raging fire on the left. This has officially gone to the 'WTF!?' levels.

 _In this game, the baby crawls left towards danger._ Wait, what? _You click the button to make him move back to the right. And if he reaches the fire, you fail. It's a very meaningful game. All about the idioms and tedious happenings through family life. I think the art world will really take notice. But of course, the message of the game only becomes clear once you've been playing it for four hours. And make sure it's effective, and take notes on your experiments._

The baby starts to wail and lurches toward the fire. 

That rat _bastard!_ How dare he? Even though he knows it's just a fake baby, that still doesn't make it right. He fumbles around for a moment but lets the baby die. That should show him!

_You heartless bastard._

"What!? I'm the heartless bastard? Your the one who made up the stupid game in the first place!"

Sherlock pays him no heed. _Did you do it because you hate babies, or did you do it to purely spite me?_

"Yeah, the latter pretty much sums it up." John crosses his arms and nods.

_Well if it's the latter then I don't know what to do. I've run out of ideas at the moment. I can't think of a single thing that might improve the experience for you._

"How about being less of a prat?" John raises his eyebrow.

Sherlock ignores him. _Dull. I'm not even going to try. I'm out, I'm out. I'm done. It's over._

Everything goes black.

 _Thank you for playing, your input was extremely valuable. Oh, hey. Since my game was so awful, let's go play someone else's game. Just to ease the pain. Hm, let's see... what do we have here._ John hears Sherlock humming random notes and the sound of paper goes through his ears. _Yes. This seems like it'll work. Let's give it a shot._

The loading screen pops back up. 

When that finally goes away, he finds himself in _Minecraft_ of all places. 

_Well, John is this any better? At last, the one thing you've always desired. A game that I've had absolutely nothing to do with._ Well that's not entirely true... If Sherlock would stop being such an asshat about every little thing, then John would actually enjoy his company. Hell, he actually enjoys it now! Even his friends at the company were not as intelligent and quick witted as the Consultant Narrator. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell Sherlock that though. Yet. _Is this enough? Oh John. Will it ever be enough?_ John feels a little bad now. Sherlock just sounds tired. Like he's giving up. _Well, let me say this, I'm done making things for you._ Ouch... _From now on, I'll only create to fulfill a artistic purpose._ His tone turns mocking. _Oh look John, I'm going to build a **house**. _

_Sherlock starts to hum a tune this time as he starts to place and take away dirt blocks right in front of John. _This should go here. And this! Here. Then... bum tum tum..._ John can tell that the humming tune is mocking. _Let's see, what does it need? I know! Right here. And yes, of course to finish it all off, yes! It's complete._ Sherlock places the door as the finishing touch. _I made this John. Look at it. Gaze upon my work of art, and feel ashamed at your own inadequacy._ Was it just John, or did Sherlock sound reluctant? Nah. Couldn't be. Who would find him a attractive piece of art? _No, but you've only seen it from the outside._ The door creaks open. _You've only gotten half of the experience. Come, make yourself comfortable._ Sherlock said that he wasn't making anything else for him. So why was this starting to increasingly look like it was meant for him? John felt something warm settle in his chest. _Isn't it grand? Isn't it perfect? It'll only be better if- Wait, no that's it! We must rebuild it out of diamond._ John's eyebrows shoot up. _Diamond everything. Come along John! We have to go mining._ In front of John, he can see Sherlock taking away the squares of dirt that are blocking his way. John smiles a little at the excitement in Sherlock's voice. If he was actually here he would have been skipping. _

_When John got to the downwards slope into the mine, he took it. Knowing that Sherlock would tell him if something were about to happen. He didn't know where this sudden trust came from, but... it felt good. When he worked at the office, he was happy, but only mildly so. Now, he felt like he could go anywhere. And he knew with Sherlock's help, he could._

_When John came to the deepest reaches of the mine, Sherlock spoke up. _Oh no, no, no, no. This is far more open ended then I had in mind. I'm looking for something more narrow and linear. Something that makes you feel utterly irrelevant._ Oh. John had forgotten that Sherlock was still a bit peeved at him... And he pretended not to feel the small bit of hurt at the warm feeling in his chest. _This wont do at all. 1 out of 5. Even diamonds couldn't save this one. Okay, new game!_ And right before John felt the warm blanketing feel of the loading screen sliding onto him, he thought he heard a zombie. Good thing they left when they did. Did Sherlock know? Did he just save him? That was... awfully sweet. He doubts that Sherlock would confirm it for him though. _

_John opens his eyes, the loading screen sliding away again, to find himself in... Portals? Sherlock starts to cackle. _Yeees. I don't even know what this game is, but I looooove it!_ At the end of his sentence, Sherlock's voice goes even deeper than it already is. John shifts, his pants becoming slightly uncomfortable. _You, trapped inside of a glass box with no way out listening me to talk. Oh, but it's so inspired. I couldn't have done any better myself. Well. I could, but I don't feel like it at the moment._ _

_John sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You are so full of it, do you know that?"_

__Well I have every reason to be, do I not?_ John stops and shrugs, giving him that much and motioning for him to go on. _What is this game even supposed to be? I can't figure it out with so little data. Oookay, now I'm curious. Lets go find out what the hell this is._ John looks over as a glass was slides up to free him and makes his way out. _

_He walks around the confinement area that Sherlock had him in and walked through the circular doorway. There is a deep red button on the floor and when he stepped on it long enough, a silver box with a few blue illuminated patches, falls down from where it had been clutched._

__Ooooh, it's a puzzle. Critical thinking John. This is indeed your forte._ John blushes at the last words spoken and puts the box on the button. _Genius._ John hurries out of the room and down the hallway toward the elevator._

__No, wait. You know what? I think that's plenty._ And the elevator doors close and the whole of it starts to move upward without him. It fascinates as well ad irks John at how quickly Sherlock can change moods and switch emotions so quickly._

__I don't care anymore to see you stumble around with much more of these games. And I hardly doubt that you'll be any wiser having achieved them._ As Sherlock was talking, John looked down and saw that there was something down below. A way to get out. John smiled and waited for Sherlock to stop talking. He sure does love the sound of his own voice. Though John doesn't have any afflictions against it either. _So instead of allowing that and waste my time, I'm out of here. You can pretend that you've won the game if it makes it any richer for you, but for me, I've had enough. So, why don't you get cozy in this room and if you have any grand revolutionary ideas about the perfect story, then you can let it boil up inside of you for the rest of eternity. I don't need your advice. I don't need your ratings. And I certainly don't need the validations of a man whose job is to push buttons. I think I'll just go about my business making cultural contributions to the world. And perhaps every now and then I'll think back to a man named John Watson, who was objectively wrong in every decision that had ever made. The thought wont last long. Goodbye John. Good luck with your work. And I sincerely hope that everyone lives to have a happily ever after.__

_John look up. Still smiling. "Are you quite done yet?" He almost giggled._

__...Well, yes. And what are you so jolly about? I'm leaving you here for all eternity. I wasn't joking._ Sherlock huffs._

_John smiles even wider. "Great! I'll see you on the other side then."_

_And he jumps._

__What!? No, wait! **JOHN!!!**_ _

_John laughs as he falls. Getting closer and closer to the platform._

_~TBC..._


	2. Cover Art & An Endings Chart

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for the super long wait! I'm been dealing with school and a whole bunch of RL crap soooo... *Drops chapter 3 infront of her readers and runs away and hides*

John felt weightless.

As he fell, he saw different blue and orange platforms with white lettering and numbers zoom past him.

The ground was coming up awfully fast... John hopes it wont hurt too much.

But as he almost hits the ground, he slows down to a stop and gently lands. Huh, that was a much better landing than what he had imagined.

He had landed in a decrepit office room with the ceiling open showing the platforms and looking around there were random swivel chairs, paintings, and coils of electrical cords on the floor. The walls had orange arrows and white lettering outlined with orange saying, 'WORK IN PROGRESS'.

It was really dark as well. The only lighting there was a football stadium light stand way up from above next to one of the mysterious platforms.

With nothing else to do, John walks through one of the empty doorways into even darker rooms. What he didn't see, however, was the big black gaping hole right in front of him. As his foot met nothing, he flailed his arms in an attempt to keep himself upward, but it was to no avail. John lost his fight with gravity and slipped.

And down John went once again.

The wind whooshed past his ears and his heart pounded.

But then, again, he gently floated down the last few feet through a square in the ceiling.

It was still really dark, but he recognized his surroundings. It was the layout of the old office! Before his boss had ordered it to be renovated. Why was he here? Where was Sherlock? Was he ignoring him, or did he lose him in the chaos? He just didn't know anymore.

He decided to make his way back to his old office room. Maybe Sherlock would speak up if he was in an even more familiar environment. As he walked down the shadowy hallways and rooms, John noticed that a lot of the walls were knocked down and all of the rooms were dusty with not much in them. The whole place looked as if it was under construction.

He got a bit turned around when he met a hallway with a light on at the end. This wasn't creepy at all.

He slowly made his way to the light and turned the corner to find his old office. The door was wide open and all of his old equipment was still in there. He went in and with nothing to lose, started pressing buttons to see if anything would happen.

Nothing happened.

Disheartened, John made his way back down the hallway again. Alright, what was going on here? "Sherlock? Sher-"

Everything went black.

_I wonder what he found. If what he wanted was to be the leading man in his own story, then well, perhaps he's gotten it. Down in- wherever he is right now. I wonder if he's happy with his choice. And if he's learned the heavy cost that comes with it. He'll understand soon what I was trying to tell him. He needs me. Someone who will wrap everything up at the end. To make sense out of the chaos and the fear and the confusion. That's who I am. That is what I mean to this world. Oh yes, yes I'll be back. There's no other way. Once this ends, after this all comes to a close, then I'll be back. The end will be here soon. Very soon. I can wait._

John feels close to tears. He understands now.

This time, the loading screen feels cold and distant. Light grey letters come along with it as well with a short sentence on loop. 'IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END-' it just keeps on going till he can't see it anymore. He's not quite sure if he feels reassured...

~INTE-TJP~

The loading screen is gone and he's back at his office. The one where this whole thing began. Where an intelligent Consulting Narrator named Sherlock showed up and made his life exciting. Even if it was only for a few hours.

John takes a deep breath and steps out of his office. Yep, everyone was still missing. Was he ever going to see them again? Deep down, he doubts it...

He very nearly jumps when he hears Sherlock's deep baritone rumble through his head once again.

_All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? John decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo._

John squinted up towards the ceiling in confusion. Why was Sherlock repeating everything from before? He didn't understand, but he decided to listen to Sherlock this time.

_When John came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left._

And he did. The room he was in now was the one where his boss would do presentations and hold meetings. Even the white board still had the latest graphs and notes on it. The projection screen had the boss's vague and slightly mocking tips for not getting fired.

**TIPS FOR NOT GETTING FIRED**

**Talk less**

**Do unbelievably amazing work**

**all the time every day**

**with no expectation of promotion**

**or recognition**

**Don't get fired**

It was kind of like a haiku...

_Yet there was not a single person here either. Feeling a wave of disbelief, John decided to go out to his boss's office, hoping that he might find an answer there._

Doesn't seem that bad of a plan. He really did want to know what the hell was going on. But before he leaves, he sees the projection screen show one last presentation. This one was about setting disputes with other co-workers. Each solution had a arrow going from one to the other in a never ending circle. It was in this order.

**HOW TO SOLVE A DISPUTE WITH A CO-WORKER:**

**Let it ball up**

**inside you**

**Take it out passive-**

**aggressively on**

**other coworkers**

**Resent coworkers**

**for not supporting**

**you more**

Yeah, his boss really isn't the best to be working for...

He leaves the meeting room and sees a broom closet at his left. He's curious, there have been rumors that the janitor actually lived in there. He stops next to the door and opens it. It looks like a plain old broom closet. Ah well, might as well get a closer look. The janitor might have stashed something.

_John stepped into the broom closet, but there was nothing here so he turned around and got back on track._

Oh no, Sherlock's not going to get him from figuring out all of the janitor's dirty secrets! He'll stay for as long as it takes! He then starts to riffle through the stuff in the closet. Then the door closed behind him. Sherlock wouldn't lock him in here just out of spite... right?

 _There was nothing here. No choice to make._ Well actually he could choose to stay here... _No path to follow. Just an empty broom closet._ Which might have dirty janitor secrets locked inside. _No reason to still be here._ John just rolled his eyes and kept on looking. _It was baffling that John was still just in here sitting in the broom closet. He wasn't even going anything._ Not true. _At least if there was something to interact with, he would be justified in one way. But, as it is, he's just standing there doing sweet *FA._

John glared up at the ceiling. "Lies. Can't you deduce that I'm looking for something?"

_Of course I can, but why would that be doing something? There is nothing here and what you are doing is dull. Where you are is dull. That jumper that you're wearing-which I'm surprised that you were allowed to wear at work-is exceptionally dull!_

"Hey!" John yelled, indignant.

 _Well, it's true._ It sounds as if there should have been a shrug in there somewhere.

There was a bit of a pause before Sherlock started complaining again.

 _John, are you really still in the broom closet? Standing around doing nothing?_ John ignores this. _Why!?_ Now Sherlock sounds truly baffled. _Please offer me some explanation here. John, I am genuinely confused._ "Well, now I'm doing it just to piss you off. So there's that." _Really?_ "I mean, I stand around pushing buttons all day. Can't I stand around doing nothing?" _...No. No you can't because THAT'S NOT HOW THE STORY GOES!! There's absolutely nothing in here so you shouldn't be in here! At least if I had said, 'John walked PAST the broom closet.' then you would have been justified in doing it! It didn't even occur to me, because this closet has absolutely no significance to the story. What. So. Ever. I never would have thought to mention it._

And it got quiet once again. John felt a sense of foreboding. _John was fat and ugly and really, really stupid._ Ouch, and there it was. Sherlock's favorite past time. Put down John Watson because he doesn't dance when you tell him to. _He probably only got the job because of a family connection._ Actually, he got in here because he was best mates with his boss's husband, Greg. _And that's how stupid he is. That or with drug money._ Ooh, ambitious. Also, John is addicted to drugs and hookers. "Alright, alright that's enough!" Sherlock pretended that he didn't hear him. There was a short pause before he began speaking once again. _Well I've come to a very definite conclusion about what's going on right now. You wont come out until I stop talking. So, when you're done with that, just step out into the hallway._ John stays in the broom closet for another fifteen minutes until rolling his eyes and stepping out. _Now, let's get ba-_ John turns swiftly around. "Wow! Would you look at that! It's a broom closet!" Then he takes one vengeful step into the closet. _Again!? Really!? Unbelievable. I'm at the mercy of an invalid. Perhaps there's a monkey nearby that you'll listen to. A fish? A fungus? Look, you can hammer out the details, I'm not particularly picky._ Lies! _I'll just be waiting for when you'll be willing to pick up the story again._

John sighs and relents. He walks out of the closet and goes down the hallway to the staircase leading up and downstairs. _Coming to a staircase, John walks up a staircase to his boss's office._ John was highly tempted to do down, but he decided to play nice for now. He went up two stories to his boss's office. _Stepping into his manager's office, John was once again stunned to find no instigation that there was any human life._ As john walked further into the room, he noticed a name plaque that read, _**Mycroft Holmes**_ and a picture of Greg and their boss on their honeymoon. They looked so happy. John is still surprised to this day that his best mate could fall for a pompous git like Mycroft. _Shocked, unraveled, John wandered in disbelief. Who orchestrated this? What dark secret was being held from him? What he could not have known, was the keypad behind the boss's desk, guarded the terrible truth that his boss had been keeping from him._ What!? Just what was Sherlock trying to tell him? _And so the boss had assigned an extra secret pin number; 2845._ John shrugs and walks over to the (very obvious) keypad and typed out the pin number. _But of course, John couldn't possibly have known this._ John rolls his eyes (he seems to be doing more and more of that) and presses 'enter'. _Yet incredibly, by simply pushing random buttons on the keypad, John happened to input the correct code by sheer luck. Amazing._

So much sarcasm. "Sheer luck my pretty white arse." John grumbled as he walked over to the secret doorway that was slowly being opened. He felt pretty giddy though. It was like he was in a spy movie! That... was being narrated by a sociopathic narcissist. _He stepped into the newly opened passageway._ Already did that. John thought as he looked around the creepy basement-like passageway. There was a low thrumming coming from somewhere over on his left and the only lighting was the multiple emergency lights that lit up the various sheets of metal and cardboard and coils of electrical cords that were laying around. He turned right at the corner and was faced with a lift. He walked inside and there was a large red button with a black arrow pointing down on it. With slight hesitation, he pressed it. The grate like door lowered and so did the lift. A few sparks sprayed him as it did though. How old was this thing? John though worriedly. Then, out of nowhere, the normal loading screen popped up. This one only said 'loading' like before.

When the loading screen faded away only a moment later, John noted that he was still in the sparking elevator as it was being swiftly lowered. _Descending deeper into the building, John realized that he felt a bit peculiar. It was a stirring of emotion in his chest as though he felt more free to think for himself._ He was already feeling that from when he had first stepped foot out of his office that first time. _To question the nature of his job. Why did he feel this now?_ "'He's' not, but I'll let you finish your train of thought." John huffed as he crossed his arms. _When for years, nothing had occurred to him?_ John sighs and puts his arms back down and gestured as if he could point at Sherlock's query. "Alright, that is a good question." _This question will not go unanswered for long._

Finally, the door of the lift opened and John stepped out into an even darker passageway. He took many twists and turns until he came to a large open passageway infront of him with a bright light and large white lettering above it stating, 'MIND CONTROL FACILITY'. What the actual bloody fuck was this shite!? _John walked through the large door that read, 'MIND CONTROL FACILITY'._ However, there was a big white sign with 'Although this passageway had the word, 'ESCAPE' written on it, the truth was that at the end of this hall, John would meet his violent death. Whoa, wait, what!? He almost stopped, but surely Sherlock was just trying to get him to go back the other way. _The door behind him was not shut. John still had every opportunity to turn around and to get back on track._ "Nope. You're not fooling me." But what if he was really-no, no. _At this point, John was making a conscious and concerted effort to walk forward._ "That's right." He kept on marching. (He kind of felt like Philippe from 'Beauty and the Beast'...) _And willingly confront his death._ John stumbled. "Now, stop talking like that! It's not funny any more! Not like it ever was..." Then up ahead, two doors slid open to reveal a red light coming from a hole that John was probably expected to jump down. He hesitated for longer than last time, but eventually, John took a deep breath and jumped.

Wind rushed past his ears once again and John impacted with a loading screen once again. Is this death or was he going back to his office again? The loading screen was lifted and John was still falling. But not for long, because he soon landed with a thunk into a metal cage like contraption in the middle of a gigantic pitch black room with dozens more cages infront of him. It was foggy and John was getting rather frightened. "Sherlock?" John called out softly. "Sherlock, what are- AHHHH!!!" Farther up infront of him, one of the cages was violently crushed between two giant slabs of metal similar to what crushes that cars in a junkyard. Only a thin sheet of metal was left of the once rather sturdy looking cage. Everything shook as the next cage (three cages from him!) was slowly moved forward into the deadly open jaws. John tried to get down, but there was nothing but fog and a long drop below. Much farther than any distance that he had jumped before. _As the machine went into motion, and as John was inched closer, and closer toward his demise, John reflected that his life was of no consequence what so ever. John can't see the whole picture. He doesn't know the real story._ As Sherlock spoke, John kept on getting closer to the machine. (Two cages) He started to panic. _Trapped forever in his narrow vision of what this game really is. Perhaps his death was of no great loss._ John crouched low and looked around, trying to find a way out (one cage). _Plucking the eyeballs from a blind man. So, resigned he willingly accepted his violent end, to his brief and shallow life._ The machine slammed shut not four feet from him with a mighty **BOOM**. And it did so with such force that it threw John backward into the wall of the cage behind him. John just sat there, quivering as he held his knees to his chest and watched as his cage was slowly moved in between the two metal slabs. John Watson was going to die and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. But as the walls rushed onward to crush his fragile body, the screeched to a halt right as it had started to crush the cage around him.

...What? Instead of the smooth baritone that John had gotten used to, a smokey woman's voice bled through his ears. _'Farewell John!' Cried the narrator, as John was led helplessly towards the enormous metal jaws. In a single visceral instant, John was obliterated as the machine crushed every bone in his body, killing him instantly._

Below him, the grate floor of the cage swung open, dropping John to the floor that wasn't so far down after all. Before him was a long dark pathway with an dim red emergency light to light his way. As John walked forward, he came to a large black room with huge glowing white letters that read, 'THE JOHN PARABLE'. _And yet that would be just minutes before John would restart the game, back in his office, as alive a ever._ Game? What game? As the woman was talking, a doorway was slowly revealed. _What did the narrator really think that he was going to accomplish?_ So, Sherlock knew that he was going to be alright in the end? Then why did he do that? As John thought this, he walked through the doorway into a large brightly lit white room. There was white painted wooden railing infront of him that led off into the room from the left and the right by two flights of stairs. _When every path you walk has been created for you, death becomes meaningless. Making life, the same._ The woman kept on talking, John inspected the museum like room. There were computers, bikes, exhibits, plaques, paintings, mini models of his office, cameras that had an eye on everything, etc. They where all around the room and it led off into other rooms filled with much of the same content. Content that looked like all of the different things that he could get into or Sherlock could lead him into. Some sounded a bit funny, whilst others were horrifying, like the machine from earlier. John shuddered and inspected everything as the mysterious second narrator talked. _Do you see now? Did you see that you were dead from the moment that you started?_ The woman fell silent for a long while, seemingly alright with perusing the disturbing museum in peace. And he did.

After he was thoroughly insulted, weirded out, and wishing that he could just go back to the way it was before, John jogged down a flight of stairs back towards the big black room with 'THE JOHN PARABLE' in it. No narrators, no wacky endings. ((A/N: But sadly, this was not meant to be for our poor dear John. >;3 ))

But this time, there was a lever with the shining words 'ON' at the top and 'OFF' at the bottom of it right below the much larger glowing letters. It was already flipped to the 'ON' side. As he walked closer, he heard the woman narrator chuckle. _Oh, look at these two! How they wish to be able to love one another, but are too frightened! If they don't work it out soon, they might just destroy one another. How they wish to control one another! ...How they both wish to be free._ Huh? John had thought that Sherlock was already free. That he was the one, or at least one of the ones holding all of the cards!

Since the woman didn't say anything else, John grabbed the large lever and heaved.

As soon as the lever flipped to the 'OFF' side, everything went black.

 _Can you see?_ John glared at nothing, "NO!" He heard another chuckle. _Can you see how much they need one another?_ Who was she talking to? Then the woman's voice grew soft and sad. _No. Perhaps you don't. Sometimes these things cannot be seen._ John's vision slowly came back to him and he was not happy with what he saw. He was back in the cage and was two cages away from being crushed again! _But listen to me! You can still save these two! You can't stop the program before they both fail! Press escape! Quit! There's no other way to beat this! As long as you're moving forward, you are walking the right path, so don't let it end like this! Stop now! Your only true choice! Choose it! Don't let time choose for you! **DON'T LET-**_ John saw a small button no smaller than a dime that read, 'escape' on it. With no hesitation this time, he mashed the button with his thumb. Everything froze and went black.

_~TBC..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *FA: Fuck All


End file.
